Sword and Shield
by AzrielLolita
Summary: I constantly obsess over Mycroft Holmes, his need to protect his brother, and that stupid umbrella. so this is pretty just a headcanon of mine (one of many) that explains was Mycroft is so protective of his brother and... that stupid umbrella. unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine, there probably are a lot. and this is probably horrible. apologies.


Everyone always thought that the Holmes brothers were a strange pair. They were able to tell you your entire life story with one look and had little to no care how they came across to others. Unlimited knowledge and not a care in the world for anyone but each other, everyone in their town thought they could take over the world, and Christ, they were only seven and fourteen.

Their parents were worried. It wasn't natural, to be completely fixated on each other and completely regard everyone and everything around them. So their parents decided to set them up on a play date. A young man of seventeen watched his younger brother and his friends every day during the summer. The Holmes' thought this perfect for their boys. A young man to try to hold their eldest's attention, and a young boy of eight to show their baby the kindness of friendship, as if anything is ever that simple.

When Mycroft met his new appointed "friend" he couldn't catch his breath. The older boy, Edward, saw the desire written all over Mycroft's face, and if Mycroft was paying attention we would have seen the predatory gleam in Edwards's eye. Instead, all he saw was Edward, looking at _him_. They introduced themselves, Mycroft thinks, he's not quite sure, he was distracted by the boy in front of him. Before he knew it, Sherlock was ushered outside with the five other children left in Edward's charge, and Mycroft was dragged up the stairs behind Edward.

Edward pushed a drink into Mycroft's hand, without thinking Mycroft took a drink and choked on the bitter taste of lager.

"I knew you couldn't handle it," Edward laughed, "you are truly posh through and through."

"I…apologies"

"no problem, we'll just have to show you how the rest of the world lives Sir Holmes, now that you have come down from your great manor."

Mycroft knew he was being mocked, but he couldn't bring himself to care as Edward sat on the bed next to him. He was so close, all Mycroft could focus on was Edward's thigh pressed to his, their shoulders brushing, and the smell of the other boys cologne. Edward pushed Mycroft back on to the bed and held him down. Mycroft felt panic well up in his chest, but it was quickly forgotten as Edward pressed his lips to him. Mycroft didn't think you were supposed to laugh while kissing, but Edward was anyways.

Edward finally got his hands inside Mycroft's suit jacket when a wail pierced through Mycroft's lust, fear, and desire. With a strength he did not know he possessed, Mycroft pushed Edward off of him and ran to the window.

"That sounded like Sher-"

The words were caught in his throat as he took in the scene out on the lawn. Sherlock was curled up on the ground as the other five boys had surrounded him and were yelling and throwing stones. Mycroft ran from the room, straight down the stairs and to the door. He only paused to pick up the umbrella next to the door, it wasn't ideal but it would work as a shield, and a weapon, all the same.

He stepped outside and immediately hit he boy closest to him with his stolen umbrella then opened it in one swift move. With the umbrella covering him he bent down and scooped Sherlock up into his arms. They had to leave; Mycroft did not care if he had to walk all the way back home, he had to get his brother to safety. With Sherlock in his arms and his newly acquired umbrella hooked on his wrist he began to walk, vaguely aware of the shouting behind him.

In that moment he knew three things. One, he would never allow himself to be distracting by anyone, ever again. Two, he would never but unarmed, no matter what the situation. This umbrella worked nicely, he thought, his perfect sword and shield. And three, he would never leave his little brother alone, ever again. No matter how many people he had to walk over, how many strings he had to pull, how many people he had to step over. Sherlock would always and forever be his number one priority.


End file.
